


Tales of Atlantis: Quarantine

by KD writes (KDHeart), xyzmary2001



Series: Tales of Atlantis [3]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: F/M, Gen, Isolation, Medical Inaccuracies, More Medical Inaccuracies, Quarantine, alien pathogen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-30
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-09-02 14:52:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16789147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KDHeart/pseuds/KD%20writes, https://archiveofourown.org/users/xyzmary2001/pseuds/xyzmary2001
Summary: Alien pathogens are a pain in the ass. And the Ancients were BAD at strategizing.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The problem with editing this part is that neither of us wanted to touch it... So far, it's going better than expected and we've had far less to untangle than we expected.  
> We live in fear of what the second chapter holds for us.

**Episode 3: Quarantine**

“Would you calm down for a second?”

John rushed for the door and tried to force it open. It didn’t move an inch.

“Damn it!”

She jumped to her feet and followed him, covering her ears with her hands. It did nothing against the horrible screaming of the alarm.

“Has the city initiated lockdown?”

Grimacing, he nodded in confirmation and turned his radio on.

“Rodney,” he called. “You’d better not be behind this. McKay?”

After a few long, tormenting seconds of static, the radio came alive and they heard the high, panicked pitch of a familiar voice.

“If I were, there wouldn't be the alarm blasting away now, would it?”

“Then what's going on?”

“I don’t know yet, but I’m on it. Where are you?”

He swallowed hard and gave her an apologetic look.

o0o0o

Catherine sighed in annoyance. It _really_ wasn’t the time for this kind of things. Impatiently, she touched her own radio.

“Rodney, Colonel Sheppard is in my lab. He came to apologize for yesterday. I need you to focus on what caused the lockdown. I cannot stress enough how important this is.”

She turned off the radio and took a deep breath, carefully avoiding to look his way.

“I suspect it might be an outbreak caused by the same virus that killed everyone on MH6 - 98U,” she confessed. The thought was almost unbearable.

She took another deep, painful breath.

“But you told Doctor Weir we weren’t infected,” Colonel Sheppard said.

It sounded like he was accusing her of something, like he held her responsible for the whole mess.

She clenched her fists and gave him a stern, cold look.

“And we were _not_ , Colonel. We’d be dead by now if we were.” She paused.

“From what we’ve seen so far, the virus works in two stages. First, it starts to devour your immune system, acting pretty similar to the HIV. But it doesn’t stop here. What’s left of your immune system reacts violently to the attack and raises your body temperature to the point it gives out under the strain. You basically self-destruct. Your blood vessels burst. You bleed to death.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but I remember you saying it wasn’t airborne.”

She shook her head. “Not to earthlings. And, for reasons I’ve yet to figure out, Ronon and Teyla were spared as well. To the people of MH6 - 98U it was entirely airborne. What saved us is an antibody that prevented it from infecting our macrophage and dendritic cells. I believe it might be the CD4, which is a glycoprotein found on the surface of immune cells, or maybe – but this is just an untested theory - our monocytes are slightly different-”

She stopped and looked at the Colonel, who seemed slightly confused, and allowed herself a half-smile.

“I’m turning into Rodney, aren’t I?”

“No, you look better in heels.” He grinned.

Good to know he could still joke around.

“Let me see if I understood correctly. You’re saying that our immune system is different from-”

“That’s right. The virus should have mutated to a more infectious strain to infect us the way it did with the people on MH6 - 98U.” She shrugged. “But for that to happen, it must have had direct contact with our blood - and it hadn’t. Not unless-”

She stopped abruptly and stared at the remaining tubes.

“Unless what?” he insisted.

“Unless whoever took the damn sample had an injury – let’s say a scratch – and that scratch came in direct contact with the infected blood.”

“Is that possible?”

She nodded. “I’m afraid so, yes.”

Even she could hear the doom in her voice.

o0o0o

Before he could answer, the radio came alive once again.

“Sheppard, do you remember that thing with the nanites?”

This time, Rodney’s voice sounded like he was on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

John gave her a quick, worried glance. “A bit more vividly than I wish I did,” he said.

Catherine’s face turned from pale to livid, but she kept quiet.

“This time, the infection seems to be present all over the city. Do you have any idea on what this is?”

“How far has it spread?”

“From the scanners, it looks like 80% of the base is infected.” There was silence. “You seem to be fine, but... Catherine is part of that 80%. John, what is this?” Rodney’s voice rose in alarm.

“Give me a second.”

He turned off the radio and looked at her. “Are you sure it’s the same virus?”

She shrugged. “I won’t know for sure before I run a test on my blood.”

“And if it is?”

“If it is... I have less than 48 hours to find a cure, so I’d better start working.”

He wasn’t sure how many tests she ran in ten minutes, but she didn’t look happy with the results when she finally turned to him.

“Come,” she called. “I’ll give you some virus inhibitors that might slow down the infection. I doubt it will work, but it still worth a try.”

“It’s the same virus?”

“I’m afraid so, Colonel,” she admitted.

The usual thing right now would be to feel panic. 80% of his people were infected with an unknown pathogen that had proven 100% deadly. Whether or not he was affected at the moment, he was going to die in the next 48 hours along with them. Their survival depended on an already sick woman who would probably be among the first to go – even on a good day, she looked too fragile for this part of the Universe.

Still, after so many near-death experiences, if he’d learned anything, it was to never give up hope. Fate always had a card up her sleeve, and if you played yours right, you might get the chance to steal it.

John took the pills from her hand and dry swallowed them. He shot her a glance.

Catherine looked way calmer than he felt, he had to give her that. Least he could do was to match her calm temper and offer her whatever support he could.

He turned his radio on. “Rodney, I have more bad news, I'm afraid.”

After a long pause, a familiar, hesitant voice came from the speaker. “Worse than being locked up in a small room without any food?”

“Much worse. Remember MH6 - 98U?”

“Yeah, though it's not one of my fondest memories.”

“Doctor Spencer says that whatever killed the people there has infected us.” There was no need for details - McKay had seen firsthand what the people of MH6 - 98U had gone through.

John kept a worried eye on Catherine, whose calm confidence was even more worrying than the threat posed by the virus.

“Sheppard, can you ask her if it also spreads through saliva?”

“How considerate of you, Casanova,” he muttered, rolling his eyes in sheer annoyance. If she heard something, Catherine didn’t seem remotely concerned.

“What did she say?” Rodney insisted.

“How about you stop asking stupid questions and start finding a way to get us out of here?” he suggested and turned off the damn thing.

Bent over a huge microscope, Catherine seemed small and fragile, and John had to remind himself she was one of the best virologists out there and probably their best chance for survival. He wished Carson were still alive and in his place.

“Doctor Spencer? Let me know if I can help you with anything,” he offered. “And let’s hope Rodney finds a way to put you in contact with the rest of your team.”

At this point, he had little faith in a cure, but he needed something – anything - to keep his mind off the vivid picture Catherine's words had painted in his head.

o0o0o

“Rodney, this is Elizabeth Weir. Do you read?”

Elizabeth's voice was as composed as usual, only a bit louder. With the radio in one hand, she moved to the door and tried to open it, without any success. It was like having déjà vu.

“We're quarantined,” she whispered, the realization hitting her. “Rodney, can you hear me? The city has initiated a lockdown, do you have any idea what's going on?”

She waited a few more seconds before switching the radio to another frequency. It was not the first time she had seen the city in quarantine. It usually was for a good reason, and it often involved a medical emergency.

She had to get in touch with someone.

“John? Come in, this is Elizabeth Weir. Is Doctor Spencer with you?” she tried again.

She only got static.

o0o0o

This city had the bad habit of launching into general lockdown whenever an internal threat was perceived. Not that it was a bad plan, not as such. The timing was generally awful, and the people needed to solve the problem were usually stuck in places they couldn't help from. The Ancients couldn't have been such bad strategists. Ten thousand years, though...

Ten thousand years had left Atlantis with a handful of people who could barely decipher some of the instructions left by the highly well-organized Ancients, none of which were ever locked in the appropriate places when quarantine was instated. Fortunately for Teyla, it didn't really matter where she got locked in as long as she didn't have to share a confined space with Colonel Sheppard again. There was just so much a girl could take of his company when under enough stress and pressure already. Right now, she was sitting in a chair in Elizabeth Weir's office, trying her best to stay out of the woman's way.

Doctor Weir's lack of success in making contact with Doctor McKay or Colonel Sheppard was worrying, and it was rare to see her losing her temper like this.

“Doctor Weir, I think you should take it easy,” she suggested, placing a calming hand on the other woman's shoulder. “Maybe it is only a technical problem,” she offered, thinking of the abused radio.

o0o0o

“While your offer is appreciated, Colonel,” Catherine retorted harsher than she intended, “your level of medical knowledge prevents me from taking you up on it.”

She could feel the panic rise inside her, and she didn’t have the time to moderate the way her emotions came out. His presence was distracting enough.

“And I’m afraid my colleagues won’t be of much help either. Even if we could get them here, we’d be dead by the time they were done arguing.”

Was it her imagination, or was her fever already rising? She should have more time. She needed more time. And the fact that she might not have it filled her with cold dread.

So she kept talking.

“Look, I know you may not like it, but I'm the only one in a position to help. I am the best virologist anyway, so there's no need to fret about that.”

John was watching her in silence. His mouth was pressed into a tight line that might be concern.

“Unfortunately, it seems I’m also infected, so I need to work quickly, and I need to stay focused. I might pass out, and I might hallucinate. Should that happen, we are all screwed – pardon my French, Colonel! – so you can just go ahead and start saying your prayers. Now, I need a blood sample from you, so be nice and roll up your sleeve. It shouldn't take long.”

She took a deep breath and steadied herself.

Silently, John did as she told and offered his arm.

“Do your worst,” he said as the needle went in, and Catherine hoped against hope he wouldn’t notice the tremor of her hands. There was no need to worry him even further, but there was just no way of fighting the chills going through her body. The only thing she could do was focus on the job at hand - the needle piercing his skin, the blood flowing into the tube. Finally, a few drops found their way onto a slide and she mixed them with a colorless reagent. She gave it time to react and placed the slide under the microscope.

Her heart plunged. Licking dry lips to get them working, she straightened up and turned to him.

“I'm sorry, but you’re clearly infected as well. Whatever caused the mutation, now we’re dealing with an airborne pathogen,” she informed him.

There was only one thing going through her mind at that moment – if she didn’t do anything, he was going to die.

“You sure know how to keep your patients' spirits up, doc,” he said, rubbing at the needle prick in his arm.

What an infuriating being he was. And yet…

“Oh, I'm so sorry for taking a greater interest in your health than in your feelings, Colonel. Maybe I should start by giving you a hug and saying everything is gonna be fine?” she asked, a strange feeling of gratitude flooding through her. Annoyance was a good distraction from sheer panic.

“And what’s wrong with a hug?” he joked.

Catherine rolled her eyes. Now _that_ was something she didn’t need to be thinking about. Or imagining.

"Damn it,” she snapped, “is it so hard to shut up for a few minutes? Just sit down and pretend you're not here!"

She took a deep breath and tried hard to ignore the sense of guilt that was brewing inside her. She couldn’t let her emotions get out of hand like that. He was making things very difficult, however. She needed to keep him at a safe distance and focus on her work if she wanted to give him - and everyone else - a chance to get through this.

She could feel her temperature rising with every passing minute, and her heart rate was going haywire. No time to waste.

o0o0o

Rodney was trying to stay calm. He wasn't very good at it. He paced around the small room, scratching the back of his head and trying to think of anything but the itch he felt down his spine, or the cramp in his left foot, or the twitch in his right eye that was getting very, very annoying, or the strange and disturbing craving he was starting to have for lemons.

He decided it was better to just sit down. So he did.

It didn't help. He could feel his back burning all the way down his spine.

Eventually, he turned his radio back on and called John.

“Sheppard, do you happen to know when the symptoms kick in?”

“They should kick in by now, but I‘m not very sure. Why?”

“Well, I've got this weird itching on my spine. Is it one of the symptoms?”

“I'll have to ask Doctor Spencer about that. Doc., is your spine itching?”

“What? No!”

“How about muscle cramps? My left foot feels like one big knot,” Rodney insisted.

He heard John paying his question forward to Catherine.

"No. There are no cramps. You're losing your immunity, Rodney. You shouldn't be able to feel it just yet." She sounded irate, but that was a tone Rodney was all too familiar with, both from others and from his own use under times of crisis.

“My eye is twitching as well,” he added.

“Rodney, calm down. You're under a lot of stress, and that's why it’s twitching,” Sheppard answered.

“Can you just ask to make sure?” he insisted.

He heard a loud, exasperated sigh and John asking “What about twitching?”

There was a long pause while he could hear Catherine explain how there were no cramps or twitching involved in losing one's immunity and how she really needed to get back to analyzing samples and that, really, it was getting annoying how people were set on distracting her from saving their lives. Then, John gave him the short version “She said 'no.'”

By now, Rodney didn't dare ask about the lemons. Maybe he was just feeling suicidal.

“Anything else?” Sheppard asked.

“No, I'm fine. Stuck in a tiny, very dark room, with very unusual symptoms and no clue of what's going to happen to me. Not to mention there's no food here. I'm fine.” His voice held the high-pitched tones of panic, but he hoped John won't notice.

o0o0o

Catherine was tired and annoyed. She needed a break and having to assure Rodney that his symptoms were imagined or unrelated didn't count as one.

Her tests continued to yield no encouraging results. The virus was there, and it was eating away their immune system – that was about all she got. She had tried everything she could think of – hell, she even went through the Ancient's medical database for precedents. She got nothing.

“I'm running out of samples. It looks like you can be of help after all,” she said, trying to put a smile on her lips. She definitely needed to see some results, and fast.

o0o0o

There was no use in thinking about the symptoms. At least, that was what everyone usually told him. He needed a distraction. A chocolate bar wouldn't have hurt right about now, but he was out. Any kind of sweet would have done at the moment.

What else could he do to occupy his time?

He couldn't contact Sheppard again, he'd be tempted to ask Catherine about her research and his symptoms, and he'd be back to square one.

He didn’t even have his tablet with him. He hadn’t needed it to reboot the surveillance system after John had messed with it. It was probably still under his clothes from yesterday’s date. What a rollercoaster the last 24 hours had been, and it seemed far from over. Getting stuck in the dark with an unknown disease working its way through his immune system was definitely the plummeting part of the ride – the one that moved your stomach into your throat.

He needed to talk to _someone_.

Zelenka? Neah, that was his final option.

Eventually, he turned his earpiece back on and turned in to Doctor Weir's frequency.

“Dr. Weir? Are you there?”

All he could hear was a loud buzzing, but he persisted.

“Can you hear me?”

“Finally! It was about the time you contact me! Rodney, what's going on?” He could hear the relief in her voice, but the static drowned out its full extent.

“Elizabeth, are you having trouble with your radio?”

He could almost imagine her applying the 'Russian method' on the uncomforting device in a fit of … what? The situation was tense enough to make Elizabeth act out on a piece of equipment – having to stand aside and let the others do the work was probably driving her crazy. He wondered if the warranty covered such risks, but didn’t dare to bring it into discussion.

“How do you know that?” Was that suspicion in her voice?

“Never mind,” he said in a hurry. “Where are you? I'm stuck in the surveillance room, it's going to take me a while to break into the mainframe and see if I can bypass the protocols.”

It was going to take him longer than that. He was, however, the best and if he couldn't get the computer to do what he wanted, chances anyone else could were slim to none.

“I’m in the control room with Teyla, but I have no idea about the others. John is not here, and I haven't seen Zelenka either.” Her voice had recovered its cool and she seemed very much in control. Rodney was sure she even looked as collected as she sounded and couldn’t help but wonder how the hell she was doing that.

“Listen,” he said, absentmindedly scrolling through the files of an unusually basic computer. “Sheppard and Catherine are stuck in her lab, and I've been talking to them.” He licked his lips nervously and gave her a very brief description of what he had found from the two. “The good news is that she’s working on a cure or something,” he finished, feeling oddly relieved to have voiced the whole story.

A long silence followed his presentation.

“I think Zelenka was in charge of wiring this place up, right?” he asked, referring to the symbiotic surveillance system. “It shouldn't be too hard to trick it into working around the city's inbuilt protections.”

“You're certain it's the same virus?” she interrupted him. A hint of frustration leaked into her voice, and the static seemed to clear long enough for a snap to be heard – probably an unlucky pen that had found its way into her nervous grasp.

“You're taking this well,” he observed, changing subjects before he started to panic again. “Look, the equipment here is pretty basic, and it's really annoying not to have my tablet, but I don't think it's news that I can probably override anything Zelenka might have put in the way of a bored security agent from taking over the mainframe. I can’t promise we'll survive this, but the odds would improve if I find a way for our doctors to work together on finding a cure.”

He set to work as he was still talking to Doctor Weir. Ah, the joys of multitasking. It took his mind off the life-threatening situation he was under, and the knowledge that he was one-upping Zelenka was an added bonus.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The dread second chapter has finally been edited! :D Rejoice!

The grimace on John's face spoke volumes. His arm stung like crazy, but that wasn't the worst part. The worst part was this was the sixth vial of blood Catherine was collecting from him, and she didn't look like she was about to stop any time soon. To top it off, her hands were shaking, and she had missed his vein three times before she started drawing.

At first, he pretended not to be too worried by her fever, but it was clear even to his untrained eye that her state was getting worse. Her temper was still there, but the trembling hands and rosy skin gave her away.

She disconnected the full vial and set it aside. Her hand drew in to pull out the needle from his arm, but luckily he managed to pull it out before her shaking could cause more damage.

“I can still do my own job, thank you!” she snapped testily. “I may not be at my best, but I'm still the best qualified to...” She trailed off into what she probably thought was a patronizing, superior stare. She looked rather exhausted. “...take care of an overgrown _child_ ,” she finished, putting as much energy she could spare into the 'child.'

“Sure, bullets, and broken bones, and hungry aliens, and God knows what you, Machos, are willing to take, but one little needle? How can you still be scared of needles? I don't get it!” she continued, looking away.

He set the needle aside and clasped her hands in his. He could feel her shaking and held them firmer.

Ocean blue eyes locked with his own, wide with surprise.

His tongue felt heavy, and he tried to swallow around the lump in his throat.

“Are you sure there's nothing you need me to do? Even a five-minute break would do you good,” he managed to say.

o0o0o

His touch sent shivers down her spine, and she suddenly became aware of his closeness.

“What are you...” she muttered.

This wasn't the way it went. This was when he brought up his authority as a shield and she argued it down. This was when she got to test her sharp tongue. She was supposed to pick him apart, he wasn't supposed to be kind, or considerate, or baffling. He made her feel _vulnerable_ , and this really wasn’t the time or place for that. 

“Don't. Please,” she whispered, but the tone shifted inside her head. _'Because, if you continue, I'll start crying and I won't be able to stop, not before I give too much of myself away. And you want that even less than I do_.'

Slowly, she turned her head away and pulled her hands free.

“I will be fine, Colonel.” The tremor was gone from her voice, but it lacked its former harshness. “You're already giving me all the help I need by letting me use your blood.”

She picked up the test tube without glancing at him and made a few unsteady steps towards the workbench. She almost made it before everything went dark around her and the test tube fell on the floor and shattered into pieces.

o0o0o

Before she could follow the fate of the glass tube, John caught her around the waist and helped her up. She was light as a feather.

He should let go of her now, he knew he should.

But neither of them moved. They just stood there, bodies touching, hearts racing, gazes locked. He knew what might happen next if he didn't move, but he couldn't look away.

“I'm... fine now,” she whispered. “Thank you, Colonel.”

Still, she didn't push him away.

For the merest whisper of a second, his gaze dropped from her eyes to her lips and he swallowed. He could almost feel the taste of her lips against his. He closed his eyes and leaned in close enough to feel her breath, hot and shallow against his face.

A sudden movement from her made him jump back.

“You should... sit down,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair.

What the hell had just happened? Was he really going to kiss her? It was the virus to blame, no doubt about it! How else would he have even considered… She was Rodney’s girlfriend, dammit! They were dating, at least. She made it clear that she didn’t want him. 

Taking a deep breath, he helped her into a chair and sat down next to her, close enough to watch her work. Her physical weakness was now fully evident – she looked like she needed all her strength to push through with the research.

It didn’t take long before she was out of samples again.

“Colonel...” There was hesitation in her voice. “ _John_. I need more blood – my blood.”

Maybe it was just his imagination, but his name rolled off her lips with such an intimate tone that he almost went weak at the knees. It reminded him of their almost-kiss. He cleared his throat and tried to focus.

“Blood. Right. What should I do?” he managed to say.

“Not much. You just have to stick a needle into my vein and fill as many vials with blood as you can without me passing out. About five should be enough.” She smiled at him and pointed to a little box placed the other side of the table. “You should find the vials in there.”

“OK, I got it.” He hurried to gather the vials and the needle and waited for her to roll up her sleeve before tying the tourniquet around her arm. “Is it too tight?” he wanted to know.

“Hey, relax.” A faint smile was playing on her lips. “You're not holding some sort of Asgardian weapon. Just… just breathe in and… Ouch.”

The sight of blood flowing into the small glass containers mildly unnerved him. Somehow, it was less comfortable to watch the process on somebody else than on your own person.

Once the third vial was full, he hesitantly attached a new one.

“I hope four are enough.”

The vial was full now and, before she could reply, he pulled out the needle and took off the tourniquet. She was already too weak to stand on her own, let alone work on a cure. He wasn't about to bleed her dry for the sake of argument.

“Five would have been better,” she whispered, carefully avoiding his gaze.

Then, she pulled back her sleeve and went back to work.

o0o0o

Three more hours passed and still no results. She looked exhausted and frantic.

“I've tried every bloody thing I could think of! Maybe this is it! The most brilliant minds have been trying for decades to find a cure for AIDS, and I’m supposed to come up with a cure for this one in under 48 hours? I can't even stand up, let alone walk, and I have to sit here and work on a cure that should save us all. If I fail, we’re all dead. Everyone. I can’t afford to take a rest, and I can’t afford to be sick. I definitely can’t afford to fail. And I don’t know what to do now! I don’t know what else to try. Nothing works. It’s like it’s not even a virus…”

Suddenly, her expression changed. This is what Isaac Newton probably looked like when the apple hit him on the head. She looked almost hopeful.

“There might be something...” she mumbled, and her fingers started running over the keys of her small laptop.

“Here!”

She stopped and turned the laptop so he could see it. As far as he could tell, various dots and shapes were dancing together on the screen in a hilarious way. He blinked in confusion and looked at her.

“What if it's not a virus at all?” she insisted impatiently, like he was missing something obvious. “We're not on Earth, the same rules don't apply here! It could very well be some sort of _bacteria_. And even if it isn't, it might respond to the treatment all the same.”

Her eyes were glowing with fever and her face was burning red, but her whole attitude was different.

o0o0o

It felt like he had just started working moments ago, excitement and fear having dealt away with actual time, and adrenaline once more replacing sugar. His fingers were aching, and there was a new throbbing in his forehead - he ruled them as things-he-needed-to-ask-Catherine-about and kept working.

He was done overriding the basic security codes and had most of the peripheral surveillance systems under control. It was time to ask for help and make a little Czech happy (or possibly annoy him beyond belief, but that was a scene he'd pay to see anyway).

“Zelenka, I need you to-”

“I was beginning to think your radio was down,” Zelenka cut him off before he could ask for anything. “Doctor Weir briefed me. I've been working on a viable way to bypass the quarantine, and I think we can-”

“Lovely. Now, I was looking for something a little less long-term, but more realistic. I've rewired the security system so it would give them the chance to work out a cure via video conference. Once they're in the clear and the city acknowledges them as such, it will allow them to override the quarantine restrictions and distribute the cure to the rest of us. Now, are you gonna help me override your safety precautions or not?”

“It never occurred to you to ask for my help from the beginning, has it? We'd have been done by now,” Zelenka said disapprovingly.

“Is that a 'yes'?” Rodney insisted.

o0o0o

“What do you mean it's not a virus? Virus, bacteria, same difference!”

Fortunately for John's continued existence, he stopped before saying anything else to aggravate her even further.

“OK, alien biology. I can't even get my head around Earth biology,” he admitted. “Still... You pumped me full of antibiotics! Why didn't they have any effect on the bacteria?”

She let out a long, exasperated sigh. “What are you talking about?! I _never_ gave you antibiotics; they have zero effects on viruses. On the other hand, on bacteria... they might have. Of course, there are a few bacteria completely immune to antibiotics, but let’s just hope our little bastard is not one of them.” She hoped the explanation was good enough for him, though her efforts weren't going to be as random as her speech might have made them out to be.

“Can you bring me a vial from the little drawer over there? The one marked Vancomycin. As far as I know, it has never been tested on weird alien pathogens, but it is the strongest antibiotic I have, so I’ll give it a try.”

Another hour passed slowly while she mixed the remaining blood with different quantities of Vancomycin and various other antibiotics. It was a slow process, and it required most of her remaining energy, but this time she seemed to be on the right track.

It took her another three hours to synthesize a stable compound that brought her work to the next level.

“John, look here.”

Holding her breath, she offered him the microscope.

“Can you see that? The little orange spots – they’re definitely decreasing,” she pointed out before checking again. Indeed, the sample was almost clear.

Without thinking, she threw herself into his arms, giddy like a schoolgirl after her first kiss.

“Oh my God, it actually works! This is it! All I have to do now is prepare the serum.”

o0o0o

Surprised, John accepted the embrace and held her with care and caution, least she remembered whom it was she was hugging. She was burning up and looked barely able to stand.

Without hesitation, he picked her up and walked her over to the small couch in the lab.

“Before that, I think you should really take a break,” he said, setting her down. “Just ten minutes. I promise I'll wake you up in time; I don't want to die either. Just... rest.”

“You... don't understand,” she protested. “I can't rest. I don't have the time, and if I fall asleep, you won't be able to wake me up. I will die and probably everybody else, including you, will follow.”

She seemed even frailer as she looked at him with her arms still encircling his neck. Despite her words, she didn't try to stand up, probably too exhausted to get up from the bed. A sudden movement of her hand made him well-aware of their position. Apparently, it had the same effect on her, because she untangled her hands from around his neck, and if she weren’t already burning up with fever, John could have sworn she had blushed.

“I'm sorry. I don't know what's got into me,” she muttered. “Please, help me get up, I'm not dying just yet.”

Reluctantly, John took her hand and he was helping her up when Rodney's voice boomed into his ear.

“Sheppard, we have visual!”

“What?” He had aimed for 'authoritative,' but his question sounded more bewildered than anything.

“I've rerouted the surveillance and communication lines so that the rest of the medical staff - at least those with access to a video line - can aid in the research. Well, Zelenka helped a little, too.”

“What?” Again, he was a few shades away from 'authoritative,' but the slight confusion and annoyance were still better than bewilderment.

“I'm saying the rest of the medical staff and whoever else thinks they can help, can see and hear you and now--” Rodney’s voice drifted off for a few moments as a monitor turned on behind John “-you can see them as well. OK, you'll have to flip channels to see everyone, but it's all we could do.”

“What?!” This time it was 20% authority and 80% annoyance. Considering the situation, it was probably the closest he had gotten to an appropriate response since Rodney first cut in.

“By the way, it's nice to see that, even when we're all about to die a horrible, mysterious death, you still get the girl.”

Rodney was equally annoyed, it seemed. Well, he did just have a date with the girl John was accused of getting, so it was understandable. But only a little. The girl didn’t want John, anyway.

John steadied Catherine. She was barely conscious.

“Look, we're almost done with the cure. You'd better start working on a way of getting us out of here so we can fix you as well!” he hissed, catching Catherine before she fell back again.

“Apparently, that's what Zelenka's been up to all night. Maybe he can finally work it out now that I'm able to help.”

“I know everyone wants to be the cavalierly, but you’re just a couple of hours too late, guys,” she mumbled, leaning against John.

“I have to sit. Now,” she mumbled.

John eased his burden onto a stool, trying discreetly to support her. She was putting on a brave show of strength and determination, but it made him feel none the better knowing she was a hair's breadth away from collapse.

“Believe me, Rodney, this is one girl I'd rather let go than get,” he joked half-heartedly, refusing to think about earlier. “Can we get on with this?”

“You'll have to do it without me, as I can hear Zelenka's cries for help,” Rodney said a bit too cheerily.

John wrapped his arm around Catherine's shoulders - it was as much for her comfort as it was for his, as he attempted to make the world a bit more solid.

“Whatever. Just get us out of here as soon as we come up with a solution. This is more quality time than we were prepared to spend with each other.”

Still looking through the lens of the microscope, Catherine gave a little snort. But she didn’t further comment.

o0o0o

If someone asked later, none of them would have had any idea of how she managed to explain her discovery to the other doctors. Those last few hours under quarantine were a blur. Exhaustion and stress had taken their toll. In between her observations and giving instructions to her colleagues, Catherine was babbling nonsense. John agreed to all of it, even the heartfelt plea to kill her before the pathogen did. She had had hours to explain how agonizingly gruesome that would be.

Thankfully, things didn’t come to that.

o0o0o

Apologizing to the watching scientists, John caught the now clearly unconscious Catherine before she could fall face first into her work. He somehow scooped her in his arms and carried her over to the bed.

He would let her rest; she was tired after such a long night's work. He kept telling himself that as he paced the lab, running his hands through his hair and refusing to think of the highly unstable state she was in. A tactful cough brought him back to the present.

“It would be so much better for everyone if you could pull yourself together long enough to follow her instructions,” said the owner of the cough, a grey-haired woman that showed up on screen after a few doubtful clicks of a button. “Allow me to explain what you have to do. I believe Doctor Spencer's instructions were clear enough and you are still conscious enough to finish her work.” Her voice held a forced calmness possibly meant to encourage John into action, but which gave it an irate quality that further grated on his nerves.

“I’ll try my best,” he said, determined not to let anyone's temper get the better of him.

The elderly doctor was followed on screen by various other figures, all visibly missing their lab coats and each giving him another set of instructions as to what to do to further Catherine's work. He spent most of the morning on autopilot, almost clueless as to what exactly he was doing, only marginally aware that he was really treating samples and running tests whose results he could no better interpret.

He was nearing the point of collapse himself when another voice, disembodied from its image on a monitor, congratulated him on a job finally done. He flipped through the screens until he finally matched the voice to the speaker - it was the same middle-aged woman from near the beginning.

“Great! Now, what do I do?”

A short silence, punctuated by a few coughs, followed.

“Normally, you'd run more tests. As there’s no time for that, you'll have to give it to her and see if it works,” she replied.

With a syringe of the new serum in hand, John walked by Catherine's side. With his free hand, he brushed her hair away from her forehead. Her skin was beaded with sweat and hot to the touch. That wasn't a good sign – wasn’t that what happened to the villagers before they died? He couldn't stay around, watching her wither away. There was no going back to the drawing board if this didn't work, not for her. He hoped he'd got things right in one.

Taking in a deep breath, he stabbed the needle into her flesh, forcing himself not to look away.

“And now, we wait,” said the woman from the screen.

Minutes crawled by without any remarkable change in Catherine's condition. Her skin was still hot, and she kept babbling, slipping in and out of consciousness as her body took in the serum and fought the bacteria. Every now and then, she'd look at him without focus or recognition. Once, she even called him Daniel.

Another half hour passed before she stopped stirring and calling out. Slowly, Catherine's breath fell into a regular rhythm, and she fell into a shallow sleep. She wasn't out of the woods yet, but there was hope.

They were still under the patient supervision of the entire medical staff of the base, which served to make the wait for an improvement in her state all the more awkward. To make things worse, John was starting to lose his grip on reality as well.

When Catherine stirred again, he could barely hold back the relief in his voice. “Do you think you can stand?” he managed to say just before collapsing next to her.

o0o0o

The pain was blinding her, concentrating in the eyes and in the back of her head, just above the neck, but at least she could hear him. For a brief moment, Catherine tried to open her eyes, but the light was too much for her, and she closed them right away.

“Water, please. Can you bring me a glass of water?” she mumbled, reaching out to him.

“There is no justice in the world,” she mumbled, forcing a smile on her burned lips. They were just as painful as everything else. “There's a bunch of dwarfs playing baseball in my head and the God of Sore Throats has cursed me onto the fifth generation. If that weren't enough, I have needles in my eyes, and my knees are made of gelatin. To answer your question, no, I don't think I can stand.”

But she was alive and so was he, as far as she could discern. Sure, there was also the possibility that she had died and ended up in hell, but not even Lucifer himself could have been devious enough to lock them together for eternity.

“What happened?” she asked, realizing that she wasn’t in fact dead. She couldn’t remember finishing synthesizing a cure, and yet, here she was. Even if the others had been able to follow her feverish ramblings, none of her colleagues had been there to implement her instructions.

Which left only one option, no matter how unbelievable.

“Did you actually manage to follow instructions, Colonel?” She was slightly amused. “We should probably mark it in the calendar, or something. Doctor Weir would be surprised, don’t you think?”

The lack of answers made her open the eyes. The stab of pain was even stronger now; she feared she might faint again. When it became bearable once more, she saw him slumped on the bed beside her.

“Damn... Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you take the cure yourself?”

Hesitating, she placed a hand on his shoulder, in an almost comforting way. Her other hand brushed softly against his lips, checking for breath.

A small cough reminded her they were not alone and she quickly withdrew her hand.

“Doctor Spencer, it's good to have you back,” she heard a voice coming from the screen on the wall. She could say it was Doctor Meyer, the veteran of the medical personnel.

“Good to be back, actually, but you can skip the applause,” she answered dryly. “Why didn't you tell him to take the cure himself? Oh, let me guess. You thought it was a brilliant idea to test it on me first. Of course, I was dying. Why not test the cure on a person who is half past dead anyway?” She wasn't fair, but she was too mad to worry about that. What if she woke up with him dead next to her?

Cursing, she made an unsuccessful attempt to stand, but she was still too spent.

“You know what? Maybe I should let you come over so you can handle this? I'm due a nice, long nap,” she snapped.

“With pleasure, Doctor Spencer,” came the infuriating answer. “Just bypass the quarantine, and we'll be there in a second.”

“Now, I think you would be of more help by keeping quiet. As it is, you're only making my headache worse. Thank you,” she retorted.

After another useless effort, she finally managed to stand and made a few unsure steps toward the table.

It took her a little over ten minutes and more than a few instructions from Doctor Meyer to find the small vial containing the serum. She found it very difficult to focus and even harder to move when she needed to lie in bed and sleep for one or two eternities, but in the end she managed to fill a syringe and return to the colonel. His condition was rapidly deteriorating, but at least he seemed conscious.

“Colonel,” she called softly. “John. Can you hear me? Can you still understand what I'm saying?”

Feeling drunk, Catherine took his arm and folded the sleeve, but instead of continuing the procedure, she found herself looking at his face as if she was seeing him for the first time. Lying in bed, feverish and almost unconscious, he didn't have that annoying boyish air of his, and that very detail almost made her let her guard down.

“I will inject you with the cure... I wouldn't be surprised if you'd recover faster than I and, if that's the case, I can use your help. I cannot take care of everyone in Atlantis when I’m half past dead myself.”

The needle pierced his flesh, and she pushed the serum slowly into his vein.

“This should be enough for now.”

Her voice was hoarse, but a lot warmer than her usual distant and indifferent tone. Taking a deep breath, she dipped a piece of gauze in the water remained in the glass and placed it on his forehead.

o0o0o

John couldn't remember anything from after the injection. He must have blacked out.

As he awoke, he couldn't help the feeling of light-headedness that gripped him and wonder if he was truly awake or just under the effect of the fever. He saw Catherine by his bedside. She looked worried. It was the most beautiful sight he could think of at that moment.

“Did it work?” he asked feebly and gave her a half-smile.

“We’re still alive, aren't we?”

o0o0o

The relief she felt at the thought that she was no longer alone was overwhelming, but her pale face showed nothing of it. During the last two hours, he had spent unconscious; she had finished the synthesis of a larger quantity of serum, hopefully enough for everybody else in Atlantis.

In the end, she had tried to talk to Doctor Meyer only to find that no one was answering. Not even Rodney, with his endless whining, or Doctor Johansen - no one. The silence became unbearable - and so did her need to get rest. Even worse, when she tried to get out, the doors refused to open, although she was probably cured, and this scared her.

“Look... I think we might have a problem,” she said, avoiding his gaze. “The stupid door won't open! I tried it earlier, and nothing. I did everything. I even ran other tests on my blood, and I'm clear. And Doctor Meyer didn't answer. Neither did Rodney or the others. All I could think about was that they were dying, and so were you, and I...”

She took a deep breath and looked away. “I think... we must hurry.”

“Rodney and Zelenka were working on overriding the quarantine lockdown,” he managed to say. His voice sounded hoarse and tired, but at least he was alive.

“Unless they screwed up and managed to send the city into permanent lockdown, we should be able to leave here if we're wearing protective gear.” He stopped for breath. “Go on, then. Get dressed. We need to take care of the others now.”

She reacted almost instantly, grateful to have someone along to spur her on.

“Permanent lockdown? You'd better be joking. Everyone outside of this room is dying!”

Under normal circumstances, Catherine wouldn't have let him out of bed in his condition, but then again, she wouldn't have let herself out of bed if she could help it – luckily, the current situation was anything but ordinary. And there was also the risk of being stuck with him for good. She stood up, her face twisted into a preoccupied scowl and mumbling something incomprehensible, and walked to the lockers in the back of the Infirmary.

“Protective gear. Right. I should have known we will need those. I think I have three or four around... here. Bingo.”

She pulled out two hazmat suits and dropped them at their feet. They were roughly the same size, and it was obvious they were made for taller persons. She offered him one of them and started a battle with the zipper on her own

“I... you were joking, right?” she asked him while trying to put on the damned costume. “We're not - we can't be - stuck here forever. Well, forever won't take long since there's no food and water--” she left the thought hang between them.

“Let's keep our minds on getting out of here and saving the city. We can worry about a scenario where we’re stuck together and how much that would suck some other time.”

The system must have recognized them as healthy for once they suited up, the doors to the infirmary slid open. Rodney and Zelenka must have passed out before they did any severe damage - they needed to get to them before it was too late.

“You’re making it worse. I was just afraid we’d have to resort to cannibalism.” She didn’t know what had gotten into her, but his last remark rubbed her the wrong way. Not that she wanted to be stuck with him while everyone else was dying.

“What did I say this time?” he asked, looking genuinely confused. “After you.”

“Oh, nothing. Really, nothing,” she mumbled as she got out of the room. She stopped after a few steps and leaned against the wall for a couple of seconds. She could swear the small boxes in her hands were weighting at least a tone. Each.

“We need to get this over with – once everyone is safe, I can finally sleep,” Catherine said. “I don’t know about you, but I could do with a couple of days of that. My head is pounding, I can barely stand, and I can hardly hear you. And I can’t imagine you’re in much better shape.”

She motioned for him to take the rest of the serum and follow her, before pushing off the wall herself.

“The sooner we’re done, the sooner we can hibernate.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The dread second chapter has finally been edited! :D Rejoice!  
> If any of you need invites, hit us up (KD's contacts are in her profile).


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